Hast thou climbed up to the full age of thy few days? Look backwards, and thou shalt see the frailty of thy youth, the folly of thy childhood, and the waste of thy infancy look forwards, thou shalt see the cares of the world, the troubles of thy mind, the diseases of thy body.
EPIG. 12.
To the middle-aged.
Thou that art prancing on the lusty noon
Of thy full age, boast not thyself too soon:
Convert that breath to wail thy fickle state;
Take heed, thou'lt brag too soon, or boast too late.
He must increase, but I must decrease.
IME voids the table, dinner's done :
And now our day's declining sun
Hath hurry'd his diurnal load
To th' borders of the western road;
Fierce Phlegon, with his fellow-steeds,
Now puffs and pants, and blows and bleeds,
And froths and fumes, rememb'ring still
Their lashes up th' Olympic hill,
Which having conquer'd, now disdain
The whip, and champ the frothy rein,
And with a full career they bend
Their paces to their journey's end:
Our blazing taper now has lost
Her better half; nature hath crost
Her forenoon book, and clear'd that score,
But scarce gives trust for so much more:
And now the gen'rous sap forsakes
Her seir-grown twig: a breath ev'n shakes
The down-ripe fruit; fruit soon divorc'd
From her dear branch, untouch'd, unforc'd.
Now sanguine Venus doth begin
To draw her wanton colours in,
And flees neglected in disgrace,
Whilst Mars supplies her lukewarm place:
Bloods turns to choler: what this age
Loses in strength, it finds in rage:
That rich enamel, which, of old,
Damask'd the downy cheek, and told
A harmless guilt, unask'd, is now
Worn off from the audacious brow;
Luxurious dalliance, midnight revels,
Loose riot, and those venial evils
Which inconsiderate youth of late
Could plead, now want an advocate :
And what appear'd in former times
Whisp'ring as faults, now roar as crimes;
And now all ye, whose lips were wont
To drench their coral in the font
Of fork'd Parnassus; you that be
The sons of Phoebus, and can flee
On wings of fancy, to display
The flag of high invention; stay,
Repose your quills; your veins grow sour,
Tempt not your salt beyond her pow'r ;
If your pall'd fancies but decline,
Censure will strike at ev'ry line,
And wound your names; the pop'lar ear
Weighs what you are, not what you were:
Thus, hackney-like, we tire our age,
Spur-gall'd with change from stage to stage.
Seest thou the daily light of the greater world? when attained to the highest pitch of meridian glory, it stayeth not; but by the same degrees it ascended, it descendeth. And is the light of the lesser world more permanent? Continuance is the child of eternity, not of time.
Young man, rejoice; and let thy rising days
Chear thy glad heart: think'st thou these uphill ways
Lead to death's dungeon? No; but know withal,
A rising's but a prologue to a fall.
Yet a little while is the light with you.
'HE day grows old, the low-pitch'd lamp hath made No less than treble shade,
And the descending damp doth now prepare
T'uncurl bright Titan's hair;
Whose western wardrobe now begins t'unfold
Her purples, fring'd with gold,
To cloath his ev'ning glory, when th' alarms
Of rest shall call to rest in restless Thetis' arms.
Nature now calls to supper, to refresh
The spirits of all flesh;
The toiling plowman drives his thirsty teams,
To taste the slipp'ry streams :
The droiling swineherd knocks away, and feasts
His hungry whining guests:
The box-bill ouzel,† and the dappled thrush,
Like hungry rivals, meet at their beloved bush.
And now the cold autumnal dews are seen
To cobweb ey'ry green;
And by the low-shorn rowenst doth appear
The fast declining year:
The sapless branches doffs their summer suits,
And wain their winter fruits;
And stormy blasts have forc'd the quaking trees
To wrap their trembling limbs in suits of mossy freeze.
*Droiling; i. e. drudging.
Rowens; i. e. short latter grass.
+ Ouzel; i. e. blackbird. Doff; i, e. cast off
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